The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries, #1)

by Elle Kennedy

When the car comes to a stop and I notice where we are, my jaw drops. The bright, shining marquee in front of the theater advertises we’re here for a production of Samson and Delilah. My mouth drops open. “Oh my God. You’re taking me to the opera?” Ryder shrugs. “You said it’s the only date you’re interested in going on.”

“Gisele,” he says. “Mmmm?” “Are we dating now?” A smile tickles my lips. I rise slightly on my elbow and gaze down at him. He’s biting his lip and it’s adorable. “Yeah. I think we are.”

I sneak out of Ryder’s hotel room at an ungodly hour because I’m terrified the Briar men’s bus will show up early and somehow Case will see us. I’m going to have to tell him eventually, I know that. I just hate the idea of hurting him. We were together almost two years. There’s history there. I assumed Ryder and I would hook up a few times and then it would end. Case would be none the wiser. Never even need to know. But Ryder and I can’t keep hiding anymore.

“Sorry,” I tell the beefy blond guy. “All good.” His eyes then widen in appreciation. “Hi there.” “Hey,” I say politely, then face forward again. I jerk when I feel a tiny tap on my shoulder. I glance over again. “You ladies have any plans for the rest of the night?”

“Teammates? You mean the Briar dudes? You play too?” “Yep.” A slimy grin spreads across his face as he moves a bit closer. “That’s hot. I love female athletes.”

“Undefeated,” Wyatt crows when I answer the call. “I just heard.” “Yeah, the season’s going really well.” “You think you’ll make it to the championship?” “I mean, it’s still super early. There’s like twenty more games to go. But I hope so.” I bite my lip to stop the excitement, because I told myself not to get my hopes up, but I can’t help sharing the potential news with him. “One of the assistant coaches from Team USA is here this weekend. He stopped me in the hotel yesterday and told me I don’t have anything to worry about. Basically implied I’d make the final roster.” “Fuck yeah. I told you.” Wyatt laughs. “Emma might be a total whack job, but her dad’s clearly got a good head on his shoulders.”

“Hold the door.” My stomach sinks when the blond guy from the rink follows me inside.

“I’m not scared,” I say lightly. “Just in a hurry. I have somewhere to be.” “Well, you’re in luck, because I have nowhere to be.” A lecherous smile appears. He even licks the corner of his mouth, which I suspect is his attempt at looking sexy. It’s not working. “Why don’t I tag along with you?” “Sorry, it’s a Briar hockey thing. Just for our teams.” “That’s a shame.” He’s unfazed. “Maybe we can meet up after?”

I try to ease away, but now I’m stuck between the wall and the number panel, trapped in the little corner. “No, thanks,” I reply, finally opting for honesty. “I’m super tired. Won’t be going anywhere after the team event.” “That’s a shame. I think we could have a lot of fun together.” He trails the tip of one finger against my cheek.

I give him a deadly look. “Okay, seriously. You need to step back,” I warn. And there it is, that telltale flashing of his eyes. The entitlement. “You don’t have to be a fucking cunt about it.”

“I’m just saying, we could have fun.” The elevator stops five floors below mine to let someone else on. The doors start to open just as he digs his fingers into my waist, trying to pull me closer. I experience a flicker of honest-to-God fear. “Get off me, asshole!” “Stop being such a⁠—” Before he can finish, he’s hauled out of the elevator and into the wide hallway. I catch a blurry glimpse of Ryder’s furious face. Shane’s concerned one. And I almost sag with relief. “She said get off her,” Ryder growls.

Nathan’s thunderous gaze shifts between the two men. And suddenly three more bodies appear without warning. Case, with Will and Beckett in tow. “What’s going on?” Case demands. “Is everything all right?” “This guy was harassing Gigi,” Ryder mutters. “Tried to put his hands on her.” Case lunges forward. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I know this is weird,” I tell Darby. “Literally the weirdest thing ever.” “But I just needed a chick’s perspective on something.” She flops down at the kitchen table, eyes alight with curiosity. “On what?” “It’s, ah, a woman problem.” “You called me here to talk about your love life?” she shrieks. Then she lets out a calming breath and speaks in a reverent voice. “This. Is the greatest day of my life.” “It has to stay between us,” I warn. “Luke Ryder has a girlfriend.”

A loud crash, as if the front door flew open and smashed the wall. Thunderous footsteps then barrel down the hall. I jump out of my chair just as Nick Lattimore comes tearing into the kitchen. He looks at me. Eyes Darby at the table. Then, before I can blink, he pulls his fist back and sends it flying toward my face. I dodge at the last second, so the blow only grazes my cheekbone, but there’s no dodging the accompanying jolt of pain. “What the fuck?” I demand, as Shane, Beckett, and Will run into the kitchen.

“He’s making a play for my girlfriend and you’re asking what’s wrong with me?” “Are you crazy? I’m not after your girlfriend,” I growl. “You sent her a text that says, and I quote: Come over to my place and don’t tell your boyfriend.” I falter. “Oh, in hindsight, that was worded poorly.” Beckett doubles over in laughter. “Jesus. That’s fucking priceless, mate.”

“You can’t outrun your history. It doesn’t disappear just because you leave Arizona and move out east and go by the name Ryder. No matter what you do, it’s still there. That is where you come from.” “I know.” He bites his lip. “And whenever you’re reminded of it, instead of shutting down, burying it deep, pushing everyone away…all you have to do is this.” I stroke his jaw with both thumbs. “Just be open and honest with me, and I’ll do my best to help.” “I’ll try,” he says roughly. “And, honestly, if you truly hate the name, you could always change it. But we both know you’re not running from the name. You’re running from shame.”

“How’ve you been, other than that?” “Good.” He searches my face. “Good,” he echoes. “Would you prefer I say bad?” I laugh. “Sort of,” he admits. “I want you to say you’ve been as miserable as I am.” He bites his lip, visibly unhappy. “But it seems like you’re doing really, really well. There’s something different about you.” “Different how?” “I don’t know. You’re kind of…glowing. Are you pregnant?”

“Do you have that magazine picture of you and Ryder framed in your room?” I tease. That infamous shot of Ryder with his arms thrust in the air and Case throwing himself at him in an astounded hug actually made it into an edition of Sports Illustrated. Printed alongside a three-page spread about college hockey. “My dad does.” Case snorts. “He bought a ton of copies and handed them out to everyone in town.”

He grins at me and swings his arm around my shoulder. “Goddamn, G, you really do look good tonight. That fuckin’ dress.” “Thanks.” We head down the hall together toward the doors of the ballroom. “When are you going to put my man Case out of his misery?” I smother a sigh. “Come on. It’s a party, Jordan. Let’s not get too deep.”

But Trager’s not listening. “Hasn’t he paid his dues already? Like, damn. He got a blowjob from some chick at a party. It’s not like he actually fucked her.”

The cord of anger that whips through me has nothing to do with ego, with the fact that Case hooked up with another girl. Maybe before it would’ve been. But right now, the betrayal I feel is all about the lie. He lied to me about it. He made such a big show about being honest when he sat me down, gave me those sad eyes, and confessed he’d kissed somebody else.

So, no, I truly don’t mean to be petty, but this song is beautiful and the sight of him takes my breath away, and soon my legs, of their own volition, carry me toward the group. “Hey,” I interrupt, touching Ryder’s arm. “Come dance with me.”

Well. I sure wasn’t expecting that. Gigi has spent months hiding me from the world and now she’s asking me to dance in front of all our teammates? I’m stunned speechless for a moment. Then I shrug and say, “Sure?” I keep my expression shuttered and my response vague, because I don’t know how I’m supposed to react. If I’m supposed to treat it like a friend asking another friend to dance. Or a peer asking a peer. Or my girlfriend asking her boyfriend. Case’s eyes narrow as Gigi takes my hand.

When we reach the dance floor, I dip my head close to her ear. “I don’t dance, baby.”

“What is this?” I ask, trying to concentrate on pressing matters rather than how good she smells and feels in my arms. “Just dancing with my boyfriend,” she answers.

“Is this some sort of power play?” “No.”

Gigi tips her head back to look at me. “This was my parents’ wedding song.” That startles me. “Really?” “Yeah. It’s the first song they ever danced to.” She moistens her lips, blushing before averting her eyes. “I heard it just now and…I don’t know. I knew I wanted to dance to it with you.” That does something to my heart. I don’t know what. I don’t understand half of the emotions she elicits in me. Whatever this one is, it just feels right.

I stare at his disappearing bumper, then give Gigi a dry look. “So it was a power play.” “It wasn’t. I mean, yes, I just found out he lied to me. But I swear I asked you to dance because of the song.” “Are we lying to each other now, Gisele? Because my favorite thing about us is the honesty.” I raise a brow. “Was it just the song?” She sighs. “Ninety percent the song. Ten percent scorned woman.”

“Wait, do you celebrate Christmas?” “I did growing up, and most of the foster homes I lived in did stuff for the holidays. But it depends on the year, I guess, and whether I have anywhere to go. Last year I was with Owen and his family in Phoenix.” “What are you doing this year?” “Staying here.” “Alone?” She’s aghast.

She hesitates for a moment. “What about this invitation—do you want to come home with me?” “Home,” I echo. “Yes.” “With your parents.” “Yep, that’s what home means.” “Will your father be there?” “He lives there, so yes.” “Your father, Garrett Graham.”

“All right, are you ready for this? The Boxing Day Beatdown. TD Garden. Private ice time.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Garrett Graham.” Another pause. “John Logan.” I swallow. She doesn’t miss the response, faintly smirking at me. “Hunter Davenport.” My dick twitches again. “Jake Connelly.” “Oh my God, stop,” I groan. “Are you saying you spend Boxing Day skating with all those guys?” “Oh yeah. It’s a tradition. All the kids play too. We pick captains. It gets intense.” She gazes south. “What’s the percentage now?” I squeeze my cock. Appraising it. “Eighty percent.”

“Wait. I left out the best part.” She beams down at me. “Gigi Graham.” “One hundred percent,” I growl, and then I lift her ass up and guide her down onto my rock-hard dick.

“If you’re not against picking freshmen for your Hockey Kings camp, Pope would be a great pick,” I tell Garrett. Hesitant, because I don’t want him to think I’m bringing it up for my own selfish purposes. Truthfully, I’ve given up on being selected as a coach. “Yeah?” He sounds skeptical. As expected, he’s eyeing me like I’m running some con on him. “Definitely. I know he’s young, but he’s a good kid. Patience of a saint. He stays late at the rink all the time to help his teammates improve their game. He’d be an asset to any camp.”

After a prolonged silence, Wyatt crosses his arms and says, “What do you want with my sister?” “Wyatt,” Garrett says. Gigi’s twin glances at his dad. “No, I got this. I’ll tag you in if I need you.” His green eyes return to me. “Well?” I smother a sigh. “We’re together. Not sure what else you want me to say.”

“It means we’re together.” “I’m tagging in,” Garrett says. His arms cross too. “Where do you see this going?” Everywhere.

Wyatt narrows his eyes. “I looked you up. You beat somebody up in the Juniors.” I nod. “Yeah, I did.” “Got an anger problem? Is that what this is?” “Wyatt,” Garrett chides. Then he raises an eyebrow. “Although I am curious about that particular incident.”

“Maybe we’ll get a skate in at the pond down the street,” Gigi pipes up. “I want to see a shootout between you two—” She flicks her finger between Wyatt and me. He scowls at her. “Please don’t force me to play hockey.” “You’re good at it.” She sounds exasperated. “Yeah. Do you know how exhausting it is to be good at something you don’t want to do?” Garrett snickers. “Ungrateful little shit. I give you all my talent, and what do you do with it? You sing songs.” “Hey, that’s my talent,” Hannah says. He’s quickly shamefaced. “Sorry, Wellsy. Your talent is way better than mine. Hands down.”

I poke my head in there. “I thought we opened presents already,” I say dryly. “Oh, this is the second part of the tradition. We pretend all the gifts are gone, and then the kids wake up the next morning and find something extra waiting for them on the kitchen table.” “That’s a really nice tradition.” I shrug awkwardly. “Mind if I grab a drink? Something harder than water or milk, I mean.” “Having trouble sleeping?” “Yeah. Unfamiliar surroundings, I guess.” “Come on. I got just the trick.”

Hannah follows my gaze. “That’s from our annual Tahoe trip. Garrett always insists on taking a group photo. Nobody is ever prepared, and someone usually falls in the lake.” She shrugs. “You’ll see for yourself this summer.” “Who says I’ll be there?” “You will.”

“You love my daughter.”

“You’ve figured that out, right?” I gulp my own drink. “It’s still…early.” “So? When you know, you know.” Her lips twitch as she examines my face. “Got it. We’re still fighting it. Don’t worry, Luke—we’ll save this for another time.” She laughs softly. “Give your head some time to catch up to your heart.”

Someone shouts, “Ryder!” The next thing I know, Owen McKay strides toward us. He and Ryder are exactly the same height, so it’s sort of intimidating when they’re both standing there looming over us.

He’s still scrutinizing me, as if my presence in Ryder’s life mystifies him. And when those blue eyes lock on my face, a strange feeling travels through me because I realize they’re the exact shade as Ryder’s. I don’t think I’ve ever been in the same vicinity as two guys with the same dark sapphire eyes. The suspicion that tickles at my brain is confirmed when Owen lifts a brow and says, “How long have you been dating my brother?”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…I’m not good at this.” I let out a breath, regret flickering through me. “He’s my half brother. We don’t share the same dad.” Just the same dead mom.

“Why were you in foster care?” she asks in confusion. “I mean if you have a half brother. And Owen mentioned his parents more than once tonight. Why didn’t his family take you in?” A sick feeling crawls through me. “They just didn’t.” “How much older is he?” “Two years. He was eight when Mom died. But he wasn’t living with us at that point,” I explain. “Mom and Owen’s dad got divorced when Owen was one. Then she met my dad and got pregnant with me almost right away. Owen lived with us until about a year before she died.” “Were you close?” “Best friends. Still are.” I hold up my wrist. “He’s the BFF you like to rag me about. Got these fucking things when we were sixteen and they still haven’t fallen off.”

She missed him.” My voice thickens. “We both did. He went to live with his dad and stepmom, and I stayed with my parents. And a year later, my dad put a bullet in Mom’s brain.”

“I will never forgive him for what he did.” My throat is burning. “She wasn’t a perfect mother, but she was mine.”

“I wasn’t related to him, so he didn’t care. Owen’s dad is…” I try to be tactful, then wonder why I’m bothering. I’m not a tactful guy, so why start now? “He’s a fucking prick. And Sarah, sweet as she is, is a total pushover. I think if it was up to her, she would have taken me in.”

“But Owen’s been a good brother to you?” “The best.” Guilt squeezes my chest. She doesn’t miss the tension. “What?” “Better brother than I deserve,” I admit. “What does that mean?” “My father killed his mother, Gigi. That’s not something either of us could ever forget.” “Does he hold it against you?” She sounds concerned. “No, but he should,” I say flatly. “If it weren’t for my piece-of-shit father, he would still have a mom.” “Yes, but that’s not your fault.”

“Hey,” she says, reaching up to touch my chin. “What’s going on?” “I love you.” Her breath hitches.